


For your Entertainment

by Livikun



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dancing, Grinding, Guy on Guy, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livikun/pseuds/Livikun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: A story written for my best friend for her birthday about a year ago and I got her blessing to upload it. I had to take it down from the other site, but now it's back up!<br/>This is actually one of the longest things I’ve ever completed. An apology: I haven’t been to many clubs, so my dancing scenes may not be accurate. Also, although the fic is titled “For your Entertainment” it is NOT a songfic. Adam Lambert’s voice merely inspired this little fic.</p>
<p>Warnings: Fluffy lemony goodness, kinda-sorta beta-ed (Added some things, but I know there’s still more I can do.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	For your Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A story written for my best friend for her birthday about a year ago and I got her blessing to upload it. I had to take it down from the other site, but now it's back up!  
> This is actually one of the longest things I’ve ever completed. An apology: I haven’t been to many clubs, so my dancing scenes may not be accurate. Also, although the fic is titled “For your Entertainment” it is NOT a songfic. Adam Lambert’s voice merely inspired this little fic.
> 
> Warnings: Fluffy lemony goodness, kinda-sorta beta-ed (Added some things, but I know there’s still more I can do.)

“This is AWESOME!!!” 

Canada closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Of all the places his idiot brother had to take the nations to, after a tedious morning of debating in a World Meeting, it had to be a club. “America, was this really necessary?” he questioned aloud, “Couldn’t we have gone to that nice restaurant up the road or even-”

“Aww, Canada,” America whined, swinging an arm around his twin’s shoulders, “Don’t be a spoil-sport! Everyone loves clubs!!”

Except for seals, Canada thought to himself, giggling slightly at the connotations of that joke, and then inwardly slapping himself for making such a tasteless joke. America took the giggle as consent and slapped his brother on the back, sending Canada sprawling on the floor. “See? The Hero is always right!!”

With a little help from England and a small glass of wine, Matthew was seated on one of the club’s bar stools, nursing his bruised pride once again. He watched as the rest of the nations from the World Meeting bustled around the club. The Scandinavian countries were engaged in a drinking battle (it was down to Sweden verses Denmark and neither of them looked like they were going to last long). Cuba was starting an argument with America over something pointless (most probably). Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia were sitting at a table, nursing a few drinks and talking quietly, not a single shiver to be seen among them. Russia was a few tables away, staring out into the crowded throng on the dance floor. 

Canada thought he saw the northern nation’s eyes flick over at him, but it might have been just a play of light. 

“Would you care to dance, mon cher?” France whispered, sidling up to Canada and breaking the young nation out of his reverie, “I have only ever seen you dance my ballets. Won’t you give your papa a chance to see you in a more modern setting?” The older nation’s hand found a home on Canada’s right thigh.

“I-I’ll pass, papa. Désolé.” He carefully removed France’s hand and sidled off his seat, wanting to put as much distance between him and the bar as possible. Canada passed a few very tipsy nations before he deemed himself safe enough to stop moving. Looking around, he realized he was on the cusp of the dance floor. He watched the bodies in the crowd writhe in the dim light, an extension of the thrumming beat of the music. Canada felt the urge to just step out onto the floor and…and…

Canada shook his head to rid himself of the thought. The music was getting to him. He needed to get out for some fresh air before he did something rash. For once, he blessed his invisibility and was able to make it out of the club without any trouble. He stepped out into the cold night air, shivering, and started walking back to the hotel that America had booked the nations who were attending the meeting. Before he walked too far, he took one last longing look at the club, listening to the hard base that thrummed from it.  
Maybe he could come back later, when the rest of the nations were sleeping off their booze…

**A few hours later…**

Canada snuck back into the club around eleven. It didn’t take as long as he expected for a majority of the countries to stumble back into the hotel, eyes glazed, speech slurring, and (at least in Latvia’s case) passing out as soon as they sat in the lobby chairs. A few of the older nations were still out and about, but Canada was sure that none of them would have wanted to stay in the club for too long.  


With that in mind Canada made his way to the dance floor and allowed himself to relax. His body swaying slowly to the music, assured that no one he knew was in the club. He had to keep it a secret. Only those who watched him understood his love for the flashing lights and pulsing beats of the dance club.  


Bodies writhed against him, strangers’ fingers whispering over his arm or hip. He didn’t shy away from the touches and allowed them to draw his thoughts away from anything and everything. The stress of keeping up with his brother, the meeting this morning, the issues within his own country; he surrendered them to the pulsing beat of the music. This was his escape from the mundane; his own personal slice of heaven-on-earth. A lithe body slid next to him, the body heat not unwelcome as a hand  


The warm body left him and was replaced with an even larger body. Canada sighed contentedly as two large, leather-clad hands grasped at his thighs. Whoever was behind him seemed to have claimed him for the night. Canada never let these things go too far; he would dance with a particular person, maybe even buy them a drink, but that was all. 

Canada enjoyed the company more than anything, someone who was able to see him and talk to him like any other regular human being, yet he had set more than a few boundaries for himself.  


The stranger’s hands hadn’t moved from his thighs, reassuring the nation that all that the human wanted was contact. “Might as well give him a bit of a show,” Canada thought. Without turning around, he placed his hands on the other man’s, really starting to enjoy the feel of the leather beneath his palms. Slowly, he drug the man’s hands from his thighs up to his waist, shivering slightly as the larger man’s thumbs found their way under his shirt. That was crossing the line a bit, but the beat of the music pounding in time with his heart and the leather-clad digits tickling his sides was too good to pass up. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the stranger’s shoulder. Canada could smell the faint scent of alcohol on the man, but it didn’t bother him.  


“So,” the stranger’s voice rumbled against his ear, “This is what Canada likes?”  


The stranger’s voice was husky, probably from whatever he had been drinking, but there was a hint of an accent that couldn’t be blamed on the alcohol. It almost sounded like…  


Russian.  


The young nation’s eyes snapped open and he detached himself from the person behind him and whirled around to be face to face with the Russian nation himself. Russia’s mouth was curled into that ever-present grin as his violet eyes stared down at the little nation. He had lost his trademark scarf and was clad in a black turtle neck and jeans.  


“H-hi!” Canada squeaked, putting a bit more distance between him and the large nation. “How are you, R-russia?”  


“I’m fine, little Canada~” he said in a sing-songy voice, “But I don’t think you are.”  


Canada met the older nation’s eyes with confusion. “Huh?”  


“Come sit with me,” Russia said, gesturing at a table away from the crowd. When Canada didn’t move right away, Russia grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to the table and into a chair. The smaller nation bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. He had been so careful…why did this always happen to him? As Russia took a small swig of vodka, Canada decided to speak up.  


“What did yo-“  


“Each country has its own means of escape,” Russia began, cutting Canada off, “England drinks, Austria composes, France…” Russia gave Canada a genuine grin, “well, we all know what France does. And then there is you.”  


Canada blushed, still amazed that he was having an actual conversation with Russia, albeit a more private one than he would have liked. “I’m afraid of what the others might think,” he muttered, “I’ve always liked to dance and…it’s kinda amazing what I feel when I am dancing. All of problems just seem to disappear. But…I think it’s the kind of dancing that I enjoy.” The words that he had kept bottled up for so long were spilling out. “I dance to club songs, not to the ballets that France and England enjoy. I don’t even know how well I’m dancing and I guess I was afraid that someone would tape me and put me on YouTube or something. Alfred would never let me live something like that down and he’d want to show it to everyone. Forgive me for not wanting to be the laughing stock of the world.”  


Canada let out a long sigh as he finished his small rant, getting his composure back and trying to ignore the smile Russia sent him. Deciding that he didn’t want the older nation to make fun of him, he changed the subject.  


“What about you?” The younger nation asked, “What’s your means of escape?”  


For a moment, Russia’s expression turned…scared, at least that’s what Canada thought, but it was quickly replaced with his trademark smile. “It’s actually easy to guess, Canada. I do it constantly, so you’d probably be able to guess if you think really hard about it.”  


Canada’s brows furrowed as he tried to think of what Russia was talking about. He didn’t observe the larger nation more than he did any of the others, so he tried for something that would be visible to any other nation.  


“Drink vodka?” Canada guessed. It was one of the few things that Russia always had with him. He could have sworn that he had even seen the larger nation sneaking a sip during the meeting earlier that day.  


“Nope!” Russia exclaimed, grinning widely and taking a deep swig from said drink, “Good guess, though. Keep thinking.”  


“Um…smacking people with your pipe?”  


“It does relive stress, especially if it’s your brother, but no.”  


Canada shivered slightly, but continued to think. “Imagining Belarus is going after someone else?”  


“…I don’t want to talk about that…but that’s not it.”  


“Does it have something to do with General Winter?”  


“Nope.”  


Canada felt that he had run out of ideas. Nothing else about the larger nation seemed to jump out at him. “I give up,” he muttered, deflating a bit from his defeat.  


“I’m surprised that you knew so much about me, Canada,” Russia said, his smile becoming a bit more sincere, “I’m flattered, really.” Well, Canada did have a huge influx of immigrants from Ukraine at one time, so he learned what he could from Russia’s sister. “And that earns you the prize of the revelation of my escape!” Russia’s grin widened and he motioned for Canada to lean in a bit, cupping a hand as though they were two children sharing a secret.  


“I like to watch people~”  


Canada blinked. “Huh?”  


Russia scooted a bit closer and repeated, “I like to watch people~”  


Canada pulled away and his brow furrowed again, this time in confusion. “Just watching people? Where exactly do you watch them?”  


Russia shrugged. “Anywhere really. Watching people on a corner or on a busy street, even during the meeting this morning; watching people interact around me has become a sort of pastime.”  


Canada nodded, realizing that that must have been what Russia was doing earlier. “So, that’s why you’re still here.” He noticed that Russia’s eyes were not focused on him, but the people around him. For some strange reason, Canada didn’t find it rude; many of the other nations looked around him as though he was invisible, but with Russia’s revelation, it made a bit more sense of why the large nation wasn’t staring at him as they spoke.  


"Da. A club like this is full of activity; human interaction at its finest. From heated discussions over drinks to dancing with others, this place is a perfect place for me to watch. I can look on to my heart’s content and let my mind drift off.” He paused for a moment and his eyes slid back over to Canada. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you dancing.  


“I enjoy your dancing; you look like you’re experiencing ecstasy just from the beat of the music. When I joined you, I thought I’d be able to experience it too.” Russia noticed the smaller nation’s face turn as red as one of Spain’s tomatoes, but continued, “What I mean to say is…I enjoy watching you dance, but I really enjoyed you dancing with me.”  


Canada’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and his blush deepened. What was happening to him? He was blushing like a schoolgirl; this really wasn’t like him. “Umm…I’m glad you had fun?” he whispered quietly, confusion addling his thoughts. Russia grinned and got up from his seat, grasping Canada’s arm as he rose. With a small squeak, Canada was pulled to the edge of the dance floor, near the wall where he had been dancing before. Russia twirled him around so that he was in front of the larger nation. The DJ started playing another song; there was a bit more singing in it than the younger nation would have liked, but the rest of the club didn’t seem to mind one bit.  


Canada’s eyes fluttered closed as the larger nation’s breath played on his bare neck. “Forgive me for interrupting your dancing before,” he whispered, “Can we start from where we left off?” Russia moved his hands beneath Canada’s shirt and ran his fingers down the nation’s sensitive sides.  


In response, the younger nation rolled his hips in time with the beat, moving his own hands to Russia’s hips to have the larger man move with him. The music sped up slightly, but Canada continued his pace.  


For a moment, it was if the two nations were moving in slow motion. The rest of the dancers sped up with the music, writhing and grinding against each other. Russia’s grip tightened, earning him a small gasp from Canada. He moved his hands back to his hips and moved them faster in time with the music. Canada didn’t even stutter in his movements, transitioning from slow to fast with ease. Suddenly, his body turned towards Russia and his hands explored the older nation’s body in time with the music. His hands finally settled on Russia’s hips, urging him to move faster. Canada’s head fell back when Russia moved closer, hands sliding down to cup the younger nation’s behind to pull him up against his body. Canada moaned softly, rolling his hips into the other nation’s. Russia wondered if Canada even realized what he was doing, the song long over and the beat of the next one beginning to thrum in the limited space between their bodies.  


As quickly as the out of character ministrations began, Canada stopped, panting and leaning heavily against Russia. The younger nation’s body was shaking from exertion and he had moved his hands to grip lightly on Russia’s shoulders.  


“T-thank you for…” Canada trailed off, his whisper almost lost amidst the collage of music and shouting. Russia was still able to hear it and smiled into Canada’s hair. The younger nation’s grip tightened on the larger man’s shoulders, embarrassed that he had bared himself like that to someone else. The music had taken control of his body too easily. Also, Russia’s grip had tightened on his butt and just standing on a dance floor was a bit out of place. Slowly, he detached himself from Russia and backed up, flashing a shaky smile to the larger nation. Suddenly, Russia had him up against the wall, gloved hands holding his arms in place.  


“Canada…” Russia breathed, his grip tightening slightly on the other nation’s arms. His eyes were wide; he didn’t seem to register what he had done. “I…” He leaned in closer to the little northern nation, bending down so that he was staring directly into Canada’s eyes.  


“I think I want you,” he whispered darkly, squeezing Canada tighter. He let one of his hands slide into the space between them, palm rubbing against the hardness that was forming between the younger nation’s legs. Canada’s eyes widened and he flushed deeply as Russia closed the space between them with a kiss. Canada moaned, giving Russia a chance to snake his tongue into the other nation’s open mouth, a gloved hand still rubbing him through his jeans.  


Canada bared his throat in submission, mewling when Russia attacked it full force with licks and bites. Leather clad hands roamed all over the smaller nation’s body, rubbing in all the right places until Canada felt that he was melting. His face felt so hot; the rational part of his mind wondered how many people noticed what they were doing.  


“N-not…” Canada gasped, trying to get just one coherent thought out of his mouth, “not h-here…R-rus-AH!”  


He could feel the larger nation’s growl before he heard it. The ministrations had ceased, though, and Canada took the chance to catch his breath. Russia also seemed to have a bit of trouble breathing; his cheeks were flushed and one of his hands scrabbled at the collar of his turtleneck. He never looked away from Canada’s face and the intensity of the gaze was enough to make the younger nation blush. Tentatively, Canada raised his hands to cup Russia’s face. He didn’t pull him forward or push him back; he just held the older nation’s face, occasionally rubbing his thumbs on the larger man’s cheeks. Russia stopped moving completely, blinking in confusion.  


Canada gave him a small smile and brought Russia down for a chaste kiss. “No need to rush,” he whispered against the other’s lips, “We have the rest of the night, even tomorrow if you’re up to it, to…” he blushed and pulled away slightly.  


“…do things…”  


Russia let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and placed his hands atop Canada’s. It was amazing how large his were compared to the other northern nation and he removed them from his face with such care, afraid that he could break them if he squeezed too hard.  


“It’s okay,” Canada said lightly, “I know you’re anxious. Let’s find someplace that’s a bit more comfortable, alright?” He gave Russia another small smile. “I’m not going to disappear on you.”  


He bit his lip and brought Russia’s hand back to the erection straining in his tight jeans. The older nation’s eyes almost popped out of his head in surprise. So hard…was Canada that hard for him?  


“I want this as much as you do,” the younger nation purred.  


That did it for Russia. Without another word, he gathered Canada into his arms and made a beeline out of the club and to the hotel.  


**At the hotel…  
**

Russia dropped Canada onto his bed, causing the younger nation to whine at the loss of contact. He had to slow down, to relax, but all of his senses were trained onto the willing body on his bed. Canada felt another fresh blush bloom on his face as Russia regarded him. The older nation’s face was expressionless, despite the small flush from their activities from the club, but his eyes were fixed on him with an intensity Canada had never seen before. He kept staring unblinkingly at Canada until the smaller nation wanted to just melt into the bed to get away from that gaze. He salvaged the last bit of courage that hadn’t been touched by that piercing gaze and asked, “W-what are you doing?”  


Russia blinked and the intensity was gone. He broke out into a warm grin and flopped onto the bed, careful not to squish the other northern nation. “I was watching you~”  


All of Canada’s anxiety melted in that moment. He scooted closer to the larger nation, nuzzling against Russia’s clothed neck. Russia planted a light kiss in his hair, and then moved lower to claim his mouth again. Each nation groped at each other’s clothing they helped each other get undressed.  


Canada hadn’t realized how different their bodies were until Russia pulled off his turtleneck. The larger nation was all muscle, broad shouldered, and big from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Canada suddenly felt very, very small next to Russia. He hesitated in taking his shirt off, feeling embarrassed. Being the second largest nation, geographically, his build wasn’t anything special. He was slim, but could boast a bit of muscle. Canada removed his shirt and was immediately attacked by a flurry of kisses, bites, and squeezes. Russia started at Canada’s lips, then worked his way down past the nation’s nipples to his belly button and then finally his erection. Canada spread his legs in invitation, offering himself to Russia.  


Russia knew he had a decision to make; his size was….formidable and most of the bed partners he had in the past complained that there was more hurt than pleasure when he topped. He’d bottomed before, it wasn’t that much of an issue, but he knew Canada didn’t have enough experience to try and top. So, he straightened himself up and grasped onto Canada’s erection. The younger nation sat up and whined quietly, thrusting up into Russia’s hand for at least a bit of friction. “Aren’t you going to…?”  


“I don’t want to hurt you,” Russia whispered, taking a hold of Canada’s hand and placing it on his own erection, “I hope you can settle for this.” Slowly, he stroked Canada’s already recovering erection and Canada stroked him back. Russia made a few low growls in his throat when Canada was going too slow, but the smaller nation kissed him soundly and smiled.  


“Let me set the rhythm,” he whispered, “I want us to dance together.”  


Russia nodded and tried to follow Canada’s rhythm as best he could. Slowly, their hands moved faster and faster and the pants and moans they made were the music that Canada wanted to lose himself in. With a small cry, he let himself go, still moving his hand faster to bring Russia to his own completion. The other nation didn’t last long and shuddered as Canada’s nimble fingers coaxed out all he had to offer. Both nations were quietly panting as they recovered from their orgasms, the silence settling on them like a heavy weight. Canada flopped backwards onto the bed and settled on his side, not caring that he was covered in drying cum. Russia settled next to him, staring into the violet eyes that were just a shade lighter than his own.  


“So…” Canada’s small voice finally broke the hush, “Is this something? Or…are we just satisfying each of our means of escape?”  


Russia remained silent for a few more minutes, going over the problem in his mind. Coming to a decision, he gave Canada a kiss on the nose. “I’d like for it to be something,” he confessed, his arms wrapping around the lithe body next to him, “but coming to someone for comfort is technically ‘something’ right?”  


That was all Canada needed. He nuzzled further into Russia’s body. He could feel the larger nation’s heartbeat, a new kind of music that he’d try and dance to as much as possible. 

**End**

**Omake** :(takes place a few minutes before the lemon):

France frowned into his glass of wine as he watched his former colony get manhandled by that Russian brute. If it wasn’t for Canada’s tell-tale curl, he would have never known that the northern nation was even at the club.

“That brute has no decency,” he muttered, downing the rest of his drink, unable to savor the richness of the wine while watching such a ghastly sight. The European nation turned to his companion. “I thought that your America was the stupid one for getting into dangerous relationships. I blame you for my child’s indecency,” he muttered.

England raised one thick eyebrow and reached for a discarded glass of scotch (which was foiled when France slapped his hand away; honestly, why was he always stuck being the designated driver whenever he wanted to go out drinking with France?). “I’m the indecent one? Look in the mirror and then you’ll really see indecency.” He rolled his eyes when France gave him a small pout. “Have more faith in your child. If there’s one thing that Canada is, it’s that he’s smart. He wouldn’t be doing something like this without thinking it through.”

France still had a pout on his lips, but didn’t argue. England was right; his boy was smart enough to realize if he was in a bad situation. He looked over at the couple again and found himself a bit more at ease that Russia was cradling Canada in a loose hug. Maybe this would work-

Russia’s hands did not just go there. And Canada was not looking like he had just been debauched. And that was defiantly not a moan making its way across the dance floor.

No. 

No!

NO!!

“England,” France hissed, his wine glass threatening to break in his grip, “I don’t know whether I should be happy that Canada is no longer going to be a virgin or furious that Russia is going to deflower him in the middle of a crowded club.”

The other European nation frowned. “What do you want me to do about that, bloody frog?” This was a situation that he did not want to be involved in, thank you very much. Russia would murder him in his sleep and England wanted to stay around for a few more centuries.

“Hold me back, or I will end up going over there and ending this myself.”

England rolled his eyes. Drama queen, he said to himself.“And by ending, you just mean joining them, correct?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The blood that is pouring out of your nose. If you start another rampage here, France, I will personally present you to Russia as a ‘thank you’ gift for the Napoleonic Wars.”  
So, with newly acquired cat-ears sagging, France allowed himself to be drug out of the bar.

“Cock-blocked by Britian,” he muttered, “I must be losing my touch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
